Monday, 28 October 2013

Halloween as a Kid

As the last of my Halloween-related posts, I'd like to share my guest post on the Horror Writers Association blog, Dark Whispers:

When I was a kid, the excitement
leading up to Halloween night was second only to that of Christmas
Eve. The leaves had fallen and made a wonderful noise when you
tramped through them; summer was a memory but hockey season had
begun; and it was cold out there with just a costume, but somehow as
a kid I never noticed. The really rich kids had store-bought
costumes, but I had more fun dreaming up my own. My mom and dad were
always great sports: helping me out and proclaiming that this year's
costume was even scarier than last year's.

The secret of which costume you would
wear was, of course, guarded as closely as Fort Knox. There were also
the stories--shared among friends--of past Halloweens: which houses
had the scariest decorations or the meanest dogs; which neighbors
gave out apples (to be avoided because they were healthy); and which
people dished out the real goods (bags of chips and small chocolate
bars that you could count afterward to see if you had surpassed last
year's record).

Halloween Day seemed endless until the
school bell rang and I grabbed my UNICEF box and headed home to “get
ready”. Having graduated to bigger kid status, I could go out with
some neighborhood friends. We timed it to avoid the little kids
walking with their parents when there was still daylight, at one end,
and the teenagers who came out when it was really dark, at the other.
The mean ones would try to frighten you and steal your candy. I
learned from experience to make a tight knot in the top of the white
pillowcase my mom had sacrificed to the Halloween cause. Then I could
run like heck when the teenagers approached, and the knot helped me
avoid losing any of that precious candy.

Halloween was the Great Equalizer
because you got neat stuff regardless of whether you were rich or
poor (or had a “lame” costume). And you didn't even have to give
up that carefully-guarded paper route money and buy gifts in return.
Of course, there was the odd house with “old people” who wanted
you to reveal who you were or sing a song for the candy, but a
seasoned kid knew how to avoid these places.

And then when my friends and I were so
tired that we decided to forgo the last of the houses, we would
trudge back to our homes to examine our loot. I would proudly display
the night's booty to my parents, who would then let me pick out some
favorite treats and eat them before going to bed.

And if I was really lucky, I
could make that stash last until that other great day came and my
Christmas stocking brought more candy.